


Promises, Promises

by CinderScoria



Series: her name is jade [12]
Category: Zombies Run!
Genre: F/M, I apologize fandom, Spoilers, angst abounds, spoilers through the season three finale, trigger warning for domestic violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-25
Updated: 2015-09-25
Packaged: 2018-04-23 08:51:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4870756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CinderScoria/pseuds/CinderScoria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And Simon always keeps them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Promises, Promises

**Author's Note:**

> So I kind of headcanon Janine as autistic, somewhere on the scale. I've done some research, but if there are inconsistences please don't hesitate to tell me!
> 
> There are mentions of my other stories in here. It's not required, but if you want some context feel free to check out my fics "where credit is due" and "two strings but one voice." 
> 
> I wrote this to Let it Burn, by RED, because I'm very fond of Simon/Runner Five parallels, and also because I like pain way too much to be healthy.
> 
> Enjoy!

He claims it belonged to his mother, which Janine doubts very much, especially when she sees that little glint in his eye that says he’s pushing to see just how much she’ll tolerate before she smacks him or something equally dramatic. She’s positive he lifted it off some poor unsuspecting corpse, or after looting some poor unsuspecting corpse’s house. Simon always lugs in unusual and unnecessary items from the field, only ever grabbing the creative things and leaving the essentials to be picked up by Runner Five. He once brought in a telescope. The Runners had been delighted, but Janine still wonders where the hell he’d gotten it from.

The bracelet is gorgeous, considering. Relatively clean, silver, a few holders where charms would go linked in with what were obviously some kind of precious stones, sapphires maybe. It looks delicate but Janine’s tested it, it’s actually quite strong. Perhaps a metaphor for their relationship, she figures, but no, Simon isn’t that attentive. It’s likely he saw it and decided she’d like it. That’s how it all started, after all, with him doing silly acts and telling ridiculous jokes all in an attempt to make her smile. It’s only when he succeeded that Janine realized she was actually incredibly lonely.

So maybe that’s what they are, friends, moving onto something more, but it’s one of the few gifts anyone has ever given her. She goes to send him and Runner Eight off, some important mission or another, and as the gates are rising he turns and flashes bright dimples at her, eyes lighting up when he sees the bracelet on her left wrist.

He jogs up to her, waggling his eyebrows, knowing as well as anyone that public displays of affection simply are not her thing, and it means a lot to her that he respects that. He taps the bracelet, lingering a little on it, an amazed smile growing on his face, something softer than she’s used to. Then it’s gone, and he’s jogging backwards, grinning a lopsided grin at her and reminding her of a puppy she used to have long before the apocalypse started, the one killed suddenly one night when her father came home drunk.

Janine blinks away the memory as she watches Simon start to turn back, but not before throwing over his shoulder, “Take care of that for me, will you Jenny? I’m coming back for it.”

-

Sometimes it’s just very, very hard. Janine never asked to lead an entire town. It was the logical choice, providing her house and grounds, knowing the land she owns is valuable not only to a surviving race but to the government as well. And Janine was perfectly content to let them make the difficult decisions and regulate schedules and log provisions and waste paper and whatnot. All she wanted was her house, and a few rules to be followed, and that was that.

But the Major's gone, and Janine doesn't know when she's going to be back, and so the burden falls to her. And she's trying, God, but her training never provided anything for this, not an entire population counting on her and looking up to her and relying on her.

Simon doesn't understand, but he listens. He can be so gentle sometimes, still funny, still smiling. But he’s solemn when she’s solemn, and he doesn’t touch her when it’s obvious she can’t handle the stimulation, and Janine appreciates that.

“You’ve got to have some faith in yourself, Jenny,” he says one night. He ducks his head so his eyes are level with hers, bangs messy on his forehead. “You’re doing fantastic, you are.”

It’s sunset, as it always is when they meet here in the park. It’s a measly park, nothing but torn carpet, a small slide, and a tire swing that her father had put up long before he used to beat her, used to beat her mother. Simon’s been taking her out here and he can’t possibly know what this tire swing means to her, but with every gentle nudge on her back he’s slowly replacing harsh memories with new ones. And she loves it when he calls her Jenny, because she’s never had a nickname before outside the “Jan” from her brother and the slurred and sobbed “J’nine” from her mother. And her father, who called her runt, who called her pathetic and burdening and a monster. How he’d grip her arm and shake her over and over, spitting “stop screaming! stop screaming! I can’t take this noise!”

There’s always been something wrong with her, Janine figures, but she doesn’t feel wrong with Simon.

He doesn’t give her a chance to answer, never one to linger on the soft moments. Instead he reaches into his pocket, eyes lighting up like he’d forgotten it was there. “And just look at what I stumbled across today!”

His fingers pull out a tiny charm, a five pointed star, silver like the bracelet she seldom takes off. Janine gives him a look, because one doesn’t just stumble across something as tiny and specific as a charm that obviously belongs on a bracelet.

“What?” he asks, all wide eyed innocence, but the image is ruined by the pleased grin on his face. He taps the bracelet on her wrist. “This is very important to me, okay? You’ve got to take care of it.”

“I will certainly try my best,” she replies dryly, but she holds still as he hooks it onto one of the holders, and bracelets are silly but she likes his calloused fingers against her skin, the only touch that ever feels right.

And he sits back like a pleased puppy, and the sun is just disappearing over the wall, and he goes back to pushing her gently on the tire swing, and will never understand just how much of her life he’s changing.

-

This must be what love feels like, she thinks as she walks, briskly, not running, not racing, towards the gates with Sam Yao at her heels. Runner Three and Runner Five came in hot, a supply mission gone horribly wrong--they’d lost their contact, and nearly their lives, and Janine knows that Simon gets frustrated with himself very easily, and he’s not going to bounce back from this without a fight.

They’re checking for bites by the time she arrives. Sam goes straight to Five, as usual, and she looks fine aside from some angry fists against her thigh, like she’s punishing herself, too.

“I’m fine,” Simon is saying, and he backpedals from Janine as she approaches. “Really, I just--” He pushes a hand through his curls and he’s upset, and she knows he’s upset because his smile wavers at the edges a bit, and Janine isn’t stupid. She waits until they’re done with him, give him a water bottle, before she turns on a heel, calling over her shoulder, “Briefing in five. Mr. Lauchlan, if you please?”

He flinches, even though she calls him that in front of people, just to maintain appearances, but the idea of it always bothered him. And it bothered her, too, the fact that it’s needed, that she cannot possibly hold any weakness even in a place she’s always felt safe, with people she tries to trust and simply can’t.

He followers her into the bunkhouse, her house, where her father’s office had now turned into her office, and she still feels oily sitting in that chair, but that’s not important right now. She turns to Simon and he looks dejected, eyes directed to the floor and brow furrowed. His smile has dropped, and it warms Janine because that means he trusts her, too.

“There wasn’t anything you could’ve done,” she says, and she’s learning how to be gentle and human through Sam, because Sam is exactly the example of how people should interact when they love each other.

Simon nods. “I know. I know that.”

“You just don’t believe it.”

He looks up at her, and he looks just devastated, and Janine’s not quite sure what to do with that. And he looks like he wants to say something, like it’s on the tip of his tongue, and he’s got a strange look on his face Janine’s never seen before.

Finally he sighs. “I feel stupid,” he mutters, reaching into his pocket. “To be honest I was saving this for the right moment, but hey, there’s no time like the present, yeah?”

And he smiles again but it doesn’t feel real, and Janine holds his gaze as he grasps her wrist loosely, bringing it up so he could show her the bracelet. It’s second nature to her now, slipping it on every morning, and people notice but they don’t ask, and she appreciates that.

He slips the charm through the hole and she finally glances down to look at it. It’s a bird, a blue bird, and the color is sort of scratched up and it’s a bit cartoonish, but it’s the second charm on this bracelet now and Janine’s starting to realize this isn’t just jewelry, it’s a promise.

She doesn’t look at him as she frowns deeply, trying to find the words. “I thought,” she said slowly, “that you were going to die. I was afraid.”

Simon shakes his head. “Don’t be.”

“You cannot guarantee your safety every time you go out there, Simon.”

He glows a bit at the use of his name, and it’s a privilege nobody else gets and it’s almost a relief to have someone to share that with. “Sure I can, Jenny,” he says. “You know why?” And he puts two fingers under her chin so he can guide it up to meet his gaze.

This smile is more genuine, very sweet, and then he waggles his eyebrows, tapping the bracelet. “This is very important to me, and I will always come back for it. So take good care of it, eh Janine?”

“I shall endeavor to do so, Mr. Lauchlan.” She surprises herself with the teasing, and Simon too, because instead of the flinch that usually accompanies her use of his surname, his eyes just light up like a Christmas tree. Just about scorches her retinas.

-

Panic. Lots of panic.

It could have been worse. They’ve lost supplies, a few goats, and whoever else who’d been in the township when the explosion hit. Janine’s running around, trying to create the order in her chaos, trying to ignore the way her bunkhouse is going up in flames, the porch already crumbling black and gray with ash. She’s gotten better at this leading thing, and explosions, at least, she knows.

“I want a headcount, now,” she orders to no one in particular, and a few passing soldiers snap to attention. “And someone find me Dr. Myers!”

She can’t think about Simon right now. Where he is. If he’s alive.

They’ve lost contact with Runners Five and Eight, but that seems to be the least of their worries. They can handle themselves, they are plenty capable. They’re also the best Runners Abel has, but that can be pushed aside in favor of treating the injured and figuring out where to go from here.

“No, stay at your posts,” she orders the sentries that try to climb down from the wall. “We can’t be sure they won’t come back, and we need to be sure another attack isn’t imminent, understand?”

“Yes ma’am,” they say as one, and Janine’s already moving on.

Irrationally, her main concern is Sam Yao. He is their core operator, yes, the logical side of her assures her. This isn’t sentiment, isn’t emotional, because that isn’t her, that isn’t what she is. But she’s scared, damn it. Sam is a constant, at least, and lord knows they need more of those in this hell of a world.

She hears him and her posture eases just a bit. “It’s all right, Maxine, I’m fine,” he’s insisting, and there’s Dr. Myers, leaning over him and pressing a bandage to his brow. It’s already stained with red, but Janine knows that head wounds bleed excessively. Still, she glances at Maxine, and the doctor nods.

“It isn’t serious. I’ll want to check for a concussion later. Sorry Sam, but--”

“Go,” he says, and it’s almost an order, and Janine’s almost proud of him.

Maxine nods, gathers her med kit, and is off before Janine even tells her where to go.

She’s about to follow when Sam says, “Where’s Simon?”

Surprised, she turns to him and he’s trying to straighten out the wires in his glasses, but his eyes are on her. Blinking, she says, “Sorry, Mr. Yao?”

“Oh come on, Janine.” He gestures towards her left wrist, where her bracelet rests as it always does. “Everyone can see it. Haven’t you noticed? You’re happy with him.” He searches her face. “Where is he?”

Janine, for once in her life, is completely dumbfounded. She has no words to say. She’d been so sure she’d been hiding her feelings for Simon--whatever those feelings are--well enough to deter anyone from exploiting her weakness. She used to be so good at that, so good with secrets.

“I don’t know,” she answers with a furrowed brow, confused and a bit lost.

Sam nods. “I’ll find him. Go take care of the town.”

Janine does just that, wondering how she’d made such a good friend in Sam Yao when she didn’t even see it happening.

-

A cross.

Janine doesn't pretend to be religious--there's not room for that, especially not now--but she doesn't understand his excitement over a small wooden cross.

Then he pulls out his rosary beads. "It matches mine, see?"

His is more of a red color, cedar maybe. Hers is a dark brown, darker than his eyes, the color of his hair, and it's chipped a bit at the edges. It’s a charm though, her third--there’s only one left.

Simon lifts her wrist, and she just loves his touch, she does. And she watches as his lips turn up, like he’s so happy to be doing this, for her, for her who is very cold and hates contact with anyone, physically or otherwise, but she thinks… she thinks, maybe…

“Now you’ll carry a piece of me forever,” he says cheekily, glancing up at her as he fits on the charm, and he notices the tears tracing down her cheeks. “Hey, Jenny, no, what’s wrong? Do you not like it? I can find something else--”

“Simon, do you love me?” The words just blurt out. And this isn’t her fault, she doesn’t know love, she’s never learned it and it never clicked in the first place. But he makes her _feel_ and it’s so strange and new and Janine has spent these last few months trying to figure out if she likes it or not.

His mouth pops open in surprise, speechless for a moment. Janine is starting to think this is wrong, too soon, and she’s such an idiot for thinking--

“Yes, of course, Janine,” he says, very quiet, still holding her hand. “I love you. Of course I do.”

“How do you know?” Her voice wavers, and this never happens, what is he doing to her?

Simon shifts, going from kneeling to popping a knee up to support his elbow, leaving her swinging a little on the tire swing, and she can see her breath and not his eyes as he rubs his thumb across the bracelet, the contact leaving her shivering.

“Dunno.” He shrugs a little. “You make me happy. Make me feel like everything’s worth it, y’know? Sort of, just--” and he waves a hand a bit over his heart. “Make me warm.”

Make you glow, Janine thinks. She takes her right hand and lifts it up, shaking a little as she traces his forehead, pushing his brown curls back, and she cups his cheek like she’s seen people do, because it feels right, it feels like she’s finally connecting, that she’s finally a person, and he’s so warm. His eyes widen, because he’s the one to initiate touch, always, the only one ever allowed to, and she feels it. She feels warm.

“I love you, Simon Lauchlan.” The words taste foreign, but for once in her life the fear she feels is the good kind, the kind that feels dangerous and safe at the same time.

He nods, eyes shining a bit, hesitates. “Can… can I kiss you?”

Heart pounding, Janine just nods, and stays rooted as he comes up slowly, mirroring her position with his free hand on her cheek, and their lips meet, and Janine melts. He’s firm and gentle, guiding, knowing she’s never been kissed before, knowing she has no idea what she’s doing, and this is exactly how a first kiss should be with tingles shooting straight down her spine like arcing electricity, lingering in the flush in her cheeks as he pulls away, slowly, grinning like an idiot.

“Not bad, Jenny,” he teases.

Janine’s cheeks are still wet but she’s smiling too, like a schoolgirl, like her life is just now starting and everything is okay, it’s better than okay, it’s fantastic, and _this_ is what _feeling_ feels like, and it’s wonderful and glorious and she loves this like she loves this tire swing, like she loves his fingertips, like she loves his promises, his “this is important, I will always come back to it” oaths, this metaphor, this bracelet, this man.

He presses his forehead to hers. “Okay?” he asks.

Janine nods against him. “Yes. Yes, thank you.”

“Always,” he says. “Always.”

-

Janine tears the bracelet off in her rage, till this is blinding and she can’t breathe and she’s safe in her office with its thick oak doors and she screams until her voice is hoarse, and she wants to go back to not feeling, and she feels so, so stupid for thinking anyone could ever possibly love her. _Her,_ Janine, who’s cold like the winter’s cold, who doesn’t know the difference between love and lies even though she’s lived and breathed lies her entire life, and she didn’t see this coming, and it’s far too much for her mind to handle.

She doesn’t see where it lands.

-

She and Five are walking back through the Forest of Fallen Runners, and Janine’s tears haven’t quite stopped flowing, but she likes that Five pointedly ignores them. They reach Abel, stand outside the gates while Janine attempts to get ahold of herself, when Five turns to her and holds out two closed fists.

Janine looks at them and back up at Five, and the teen opens one hand to reveal a bracelet, silver linked with sapphire and with three charms hanging from it. Janine’s heart drops to her toes.

“Where did you find this?” she hisses, not actually angry, just tired and confused.

Five gives her a small smile, which is all the answer she’s going to get apparently. Then she opens her other hand, and there sits a silver heart, very plain, nothing special, and Janine suddenly can’t breathe. She takes them both, and they feel--they feel bloody for some reason, and her face is getting very hot again and her heart has picked up double time.

Five lifts her hands to sign. _Simon told me to give this to you. He says to take care of it for him._

“He’s not coming back,” Janine whispers, and that’s an odd thing to say with all this information and emotions flooding her brain.

Five nods, signs, _I know._

The gates are rising, and Janine just takes off, she sets a fast pace so she can head to the tire swing and focus on not throwing up. This is all too much, this is too much, she’s not equipped for this sort of attack, she’s never been trained.

She misses him like she misses fire and that shouldn’t be right, she shouldn’t miss someone who’d hurt her so badly, if what she felt wasn’t even love, if it was all a lie, and she’s just been _through_ this already, damn it!

It takes her a while to get her breath back, but she does, and she swings to and fro on the tire swing, glad for the peace and quiet as she threads the heart through the last holder on the bracelet and, after a moment’s hesitation, fastens the clasp around her wrist again. The weight, even after so long, feels… it feels. It feels like Simon, and she fingers the cross, and this is healing, she thinks, and he better not be coming back for this. Not this, not her, not after everything. But she’ll keep this piece of him, because he was a good part of her life, at least for a little while. Maybe that’s what love really is, pieces transferred from one person to another, an ongoing memory maybe, something that makes you feel when you’ve thought you were immune to such things. Maybe one day she’ll believe this was all worth it, worth these pieces of Simon Lauchlan that she will carry for the rest of her life. Maybe not today. But she’s healing, and for now, it’s enough.


End file.
